The Multi-verse Theory
by dcrassle
Summary: A collection of AU one-shots. SOMA. AU. In the middle of the chaos that is their relationship, there was peace.
1. Splatter Paint

**Splatter Paint**

She was dizzy as fuck and she can't seem to remember the 23rd digit of pi.

Maka Albarn was a lot of things, a good daughter, a kick-ass black belter and a top- notch student, but if there's one thing she isn't, it's being reckless.

Being reckless was Liz and Patty's thing, the whole standing on table tops and belting out _Dancing Queen_ while wearing not-so-decent outfits. Maka was all sensible sweaters, jeans and oxfords, she isn't the type who wears the daring low v-neck or short shorts.

She was also attracted to the paperback hero: good reputation, dazzling looks and the manners of a gentleman. This kind of standard she set made her sure that she'll never meet a guy like her father, rugged-looks, the bad boy persona and the silver tongue that made women flock around him in an instant.

She's all for the typical text-book romance, roses, dates in movies and dinner, until Hiro breaks up with her for 'not being attentive to his goddamn needs' ,well let's just say she left romance between the pages of the last Nicholas Sparks book she read. And a prompt 'girl session' with the sisters and Tsubaki seemed like a good idea at that time.

She's built her walls and she doesn't want anyone tearing them down anytime soon.

Maka was a calm, rational and functional member of society.

She was _so_ over the break-up. She was _so_ above the petty revenge phase.

Yet as she was faced with her ex's car, which he forgot to park somewhere else, right in front of the apartment they once shared ( _he was going to pick up his things tomorrow_ ), it was just too good to pass up the opportunity.

The brand new paint job was just _begging_ to be wrecked.

Quickly taking out her apartment keys, she scratched the surface of Hiro's brand new car, and _fuck_ , it felt so damn good. She shouldn't be doing this, she was much better than this. ( _And the alcohol just kept whispering sweet, sweet words in her head_ )

And that was why this felt so _much_ better. Spotting a rock near the sidewalk, she smiled.

After a series of car alarms, barking dogs and running away from whatever ( _why did she not run to her apartment? stupid. stupid. stupid._ ), the high she felt from the cheap beer promptly vanished.

Fainting in some drive way was not a stellar end to the evening _or morning_. ( _she'll never let Patty choose what she drinks, like, ever._ )

She only remembers the smell of expensive perfume and soft silk.

* * *

She never knew the word _shit-faced_ would accurately describe how she felt right now. She languidly stretched on her bed and tried to grab the blanket.

Only to grab a pair of boxers.

Disgruntled and confused, she immediately opened her eyes to the unfamiliar room.

Black walls, vinyl records and Star Wars merch?

 _Fuck._

Getting out of the bed would be her first priority, _if_ she could still stand straight or even sit up. After several failed attempts at getting up, she resigned herself and hid under the warm blankets. At the very least she was still fully clothed, which she couldn't decide if that was a good or bad thing.

Where was the owner of the wonderfully warm bed so she can thank him/her for keeping her away from the agonizingly humiliating drunken stupor she got herself into last night? Groaning did not help abate the pain of her head ache.

Before she could continue berating herself for the utter stupidity of last night, a deep, masculine voice interrupted her.

"You know, you could try getting up and quietly disappear from my apartment."

It was official, life is a total and utter bitch.

She muffled her voice on one of the pillows.

"I can't hear you lady."

"I can't get up."

She hears the man's steps come closer and feels the bed dip from his weight.

She really wishes that the big comfy bed would just swallow her up. _Right now would probably be good._

She didn't feel so good.

But since life was on her period today, it decided to be bitchier. Feeling her head implode and the sudden urgency to empty her insides on a stranger's bed seemed to be a great idea at that time. Unfortunately, the said stranger didn't think so.

"Seriously?! What happened to good karma and shit? Damn it all." So he did what he could, he held back her hair while she was chucking out the remains of last night's foray.

And that's how she spent the entire afternoon in a stranger's bed with a small bucket near her feet, with him making soup somewhere in his kitchen.

She learns that his name was Soul and _no, he wasn't a creepy molester._

He found her in his driveway when he was going home from work, fearing she might be dead, he decided to take her inside and he doubted that she was up for a late night drive in a stranger's car.

When he asked her how the hell did she end up lying on his driveway, she told him about her ex and the drinking and the car.

"C'mon, drinking for an ex? Yeah, he was a douche, but why give yourself grief over him?"

He made it sound so simple.

When she was going to answer, his phone rang.

"Hello, Kid? Yeah, sorry about that. I'm not going today, I got...company." She snorts and he glares at her from the kitchen.

She takes the time to look around, a disaster of a room, music sheets and clothes littered everywhere. A typical single man.

He goes into the room and picks up his jacket from the floor and throws it at her.

"Let's go."

"Where are we going?"

"I'm gonna take you home, what else?"

She remembers that Hiro would be there and she did not want to face him with her ruined make-up. ( _Soul seeing her like that was enough. Even if he's a sort-of stranger._ )

"No." Her upper lip quivers, she hugs the jacket closer to her small frame.

He looked at her, eyes soft."Then where do you want to go? I'm already free for the rest of the day."

"An ice cream shop?" She meets his eyes, a small beginning of a smile.

It was not a bit weird that a girl who was wearing a clubbing outfit and a guy who seemed like the undertaker, walk into an up town ice cream parlor. Or maybe that was just them.


	2. No Headlights

**A/N:** My collection of SOMA one-shots. This collection will be complete and ratings will not exceed T.

Inspired by the movie _Grease._

* * *

 **No Headlights**

She sits primly in front of the class, her blonde hair tied in a neat pony tail and her manicured fingers meticulously taking notes. Her face is devoid of make-up, save for the baby pink lip gloss that compliments her look

She adjusts her boyfriend's varsity jacket around her small frame, the white and green school colors complimenting her outfit.

Maka wasn't particularly vain, but she needed to keep up with the latest trends, she was one of the school's cheerleaders. It would put a dent in her otherwise flawless reputation if they found out that she didn't wear Monroe's signature red lipstick for a day at the very least. She heard enough slack from Kim when she went to a party in a _plaid dress._

Such are the woes of being a teenager.

She goes out of class, Hiro quickly approaches her. He's still in his muddy football outfit, his blonde hair mussed up and wide blue eyes make him more endearing. She wrinkles her nose in distaste, he smelled like gym socks and the grape flavored sports drink their coach seemed to favor. (He smells like highschool, keeping up appearances and trying too hard.)

He should know by now that his girlfriend doesn't like it when he goes near her with dirt stuck to his clothes, but he leans down anyway and whispers, "Hey sugar."

Maka spot a group of girls giggling at her direction, she doesn't notice anything odd.

She doesn't notice the way those girls looked at her.

She doesn't notice the faint lipstick marks on Hiro's neck that was definitely not hers.

She doesn't notice anything out of place at all.

"You okay, sugar?" His voice snaps her out of her thoughts. She flashes him a quick smile and mutter a faint "I'm okay."

"I heard a new kid was coming in your class today, seen him?"

She rolls her eyes and gives Hiro a quick peck on the cheek before she walks away to her next class.

* * *

Half-way through the lesson about the food chain, a man came in. He was wearing a white shirt stained with motor oil, a leather jacket slung over his shoulder, aviator shades perched on his nose and a black headband holding back white hair.

He was the kind of guy her father warns her about.

She can hear the twittering of the floozies at the back of the class, their vapid gushings on how hot the new kid was.

She almost felt sympathy to this guy who dare disturb the sanctity of the classroom.

He swaggered in and smirked at some said floozie.

 _Almost._

The guy stands in front of her and she can see his face more clearly, a strong jaw, pronounced cheekbones and red eyes. He saw her looking at him and smirked.

Something clicked in the way he looked at her. It was like driving a motorcycle at full speed, hair loose and the air whipping painfully against her face. The thrill of being picked up at the back of their house with the headlights off, because her Papa might see them and bring out the ol' shotgun.

"Mr. Evans, it's nice of you to join us."

"The pleasure's all mine, Mr. Stein." He replies, he sits at the vacant seat at her right. He leans toward her and she can faintly smell motor oil and freshly mowed grass.

"Can I borrow one of your pens angel?"

He had a voice as sweet and thick as honey.

When she searches her bag for a spare pen, she could feel his hand travelling towards her thigh.

He had a mechanic's set of hands, rough pads and sleek fingers.

She slams the blunt end of the pen on his hand so hard, she could see him flinch.

"You can keep the pen." She simpers sweetly.

* * *

She's part of the cheering squad and she has a reason for being on the school grounds late at night, _Eater,_ on the other hand, did not.

 _The guy who answered an arithmetic progression word problem correctly on the first try and also had a higher score than her on Medusa's surprise quiz._

He could see him with his stupid smirk when the results were announced.

To add fuel to the fire, she saw Hiro flirting with Callie (the annoying girl from Humanities). After a rather intense break-up in the school hall, ending in Hiro with bruise on his face. She was so tired, she wanted this day to end.

"Hey angel, what are you doin' out this hour?"

Like, right now.

"Unlike you, I have an actual reason for being out this late."

"I was just tourin' the grounds."

She eyes his bloodstained shirt, he just shrugs.

"I took care of stuff..."

Maka narrows her eyes at him.

"Why are you lookin' at me like that?" He puts up his hands in mock surrender, he smirks and comes closer.

"How bout' I give ya' a ride home? Boyfriend forgot to pi-you broke up with that loser, right?"

"Don't make me shove another pen on your hand, Eater."

Eater coughs and holds out a hand, "So what's it gonna be angel?"

She likes the way his rough hand fits into hers.


	3. Paper Giraffes

**Disclaimer:** I do not own.

 **A/N:** Office AU, because we can't have too much of it.

Also, I edited the previous chapters.

* * *

"This will not work!" The voice was heavily laced with sleep, a worryingly large amount of caffeine keeping most of his facilities working. In fact, most of the people around them seem to be the same. Rumpled office attire, heavy bags under the eyes and the faint smell of body odor.

Maka was sure that as the date of an event nears, the more problems they encounter. It was that time of the year when the intake of coffee, sleepless nights and arguments with the sharp-toothed menace escalated to staggering amounts. They had to get this perfect after all and Maka, is nothing short of perfection.

"This will work! All the documents are ready for the handing over and the number of possible fuck-ups is zero."

"Oh really? Well, who's idea was it to 'simply interchange' the orders and files resulting to _fuck-up number one_?"

"Bite my ass Evans, at least I wasn't responsible for the preceding ones!"

"Go fuck yourself Alba-"

Before their heated conversation escalated into a full-blown roughhouse, Tsubaki Nakatsukasa, a usually quiet grl from HR, slammed her mug on the table,

"Enough! Can't you guys act like your age for once? Everyone here is as tired as you guys, if you can't work together, then work apart so we can finally finish this whole thing."

The whole room was silenced. Even Black Star, the annoying little PR monkey from the third floor, was regarding the pair with tired eyes.

"Fine."

While everyone debates if they should still enlist the help of Evans and Albarn, the youngest member of the team sat at the corner of the meeting table folding paper giraffes.

Patty knows it's just the sexual tension between the two.


	4. Anger Issues

**Disclaimer:** I do not own.

 **A/N:** I updated and I feel accomplished because of that. This contains portions of violence (but nothing too graphic).

* * *

( _Shattering plates, raised voices, and slamming doors_ )

It's how their relationship works. Volatile, turbulent and chaotic. That's them.

People will think that their relationship was bad, destructive, even. They both try scar each other the best they can, both physically and emotionally, because they're equally fucked up in one way or another. She's got daddy issues and he's got an inferiority complex.

 _Maka saw him through the semi-open door when she got lost in someone else's family home (a friend of her papa's) and still the music was loud and clear. She could feel the music at the very tips of her soul, coaxing out things she never knew that lived inside her. There was something about the piece that left her weak in the knees and spell bound. Clashing of sounds, creating atonal symphonies for demented orchestras._

 _Nearing the end, he must have realized he wasn't alone and proceeded to stutter out of the seat and try to excuse himself from the room and blurt out directions back to the main lobby._

( _Crashing waves, blood red eyes and sleepless nights_ )

Everyday since then, she saw him more often. Fancy dinner parties. Dance lessons. Summer vacation.

( _Stolen glances, quick smiles, and shy hello's_ )

It was beautiful, the tension that surrounded them both.

 _/_

 _We're all attracted to what destroys us_.

/

She tries so hard to be like her Mama, but she still feels her father's blood pumping through her veins.

It's dangerous, her anger. It's the type of anger that builds up in her throat, boiling and clawing at her till' her eyes water from the effort of keeping her facial expressions normal. It chokes her, makes breathing harder and makes her want to scream at the top of her lungs just to rid herself of the sensation. She takes it out on him, but Soul wasn't the type of guy to take everything face down either, he gave it back as good as he can. It wasn't a surprise when she found out they almost have the same number of bruises and scars. _It was a fucking match made in heaven._

She's getting off on this. The tension, passion and anger in their every move. She feels the high it gives her, falling down the pit of self destruction at breakneck speed.

It wasn't healthy, it wasn't normal and it wasn't someone sane would do.

If she was sane, she would've left him after she got her first bruise. If she was sane, she would've told someone about this. If she was sane, then she would've known it was impolite to sneak in on other people. If she was sane, she would've closed the goddamned door and went on her merry way.

( _Creaking mattresses, suppressed moans, and a clusterfuck of what-ifs_ )

She's learned to control her impulsiveness through the years of training and experience. It molded her to harness that steadfast focus that comes with the adrenaline rush. But when it comes to him, her whole being gets transformed to one of his composed pieces.

/

He still manages to surprise her.

His brother just died, an accident during one of his concerts, a raging fire.

 _(Agonizing cries, late night talks, and his tear-stained face_ )

In that black room, the same room where she heard him play for the first time, he made love to her quietly on the piano. No bruises, no hurried pace, no power-play. Quiet moans and gasps of pleasure. She misses _this_. She misses _them_. And judging by the look in his eyes, he misses this too.

( _Bare skin, soft kisses, and lingering touches_ )

Back to the time where they were just two jaded souls finding peace in one another.

( _They still are_ )

And they both become undone.

 _fin._


End file.
